


The Business of Sentimentality

by solversonlou



Category: The Sisters Brothers (2018), The Sisters Brothers - Patrick deWitt
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 15:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17185913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solversonlou/pseuds/solversonlou
Summary: Warm and Morris share a night in a motel.





	The Business of Sentimentality

Their trips across the plains on horseback become a little repetitive, but neither of them seem to mind, the fresh air doing them both good on their quest to acquire their promised riches. The company of each other seems to help, their acquaintance having shifted to that of a business partnership, their goals the same. 

Warm would even dare to ponder the possibility of them perhaps having shifted to friends, their time together short but leaving him with a feeling as if he'd known the man for years. He wonders if Morris feels the same.

Their travels leave them sleeping in various places over the nights, camping out in woodlands near creeks, in fancy hotels when they could afford it, in cheaper ones when they could not. 

Morris likes to sleep on his left side, complains often of the hard ground when they're out in the open, and Warm simply chuckles and tells him to be more hardy. Morris simply scoffs and passes him a leather flask of whiskey that had touched his own lips, and watches as Warm swallowed it down, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

There wasn't much need for privacy out in the open, bathing in the lake in their britches, but Warm still seemed a little distant, keeping a space of water between them, back turned to Morris, who'd noticed his reluctance immediately. 

He doesn't say anything, just dries off on the grass with a rag, the toned lines of his suntanned skin a focal point for Warm, who averts his gaze when Morris looks up at him, standing on the lake bed, still damp from the water.

Morris exhales, extends a hand out to Warm, a suggestion that takes Warm a moment to figure out, and then he's helping him to stand, their hands clasped together, warm skin.

The fancy motels are easy. Separate rooms, hot baths. It's the cheaper ones that are more difficult to navigate.

They land themselves in a place neither of them really would like to be, where a man could engage in certain proclivities if he so desired, with women in corsets with large busts and charcoal rimmed eyes. 

They flock to Morris almost immediately, stroking his cheek, and Warm watches as his business partner tenses up beneath their touch, forcing a smile. Warm knew when a smile was genuine from the man, and this was not one of them.

"Ladies, I'm sure my friend is flattered, but he is a married man," Warm interjects, placing a hand on Morris's shoulder, squeezing it gently, feeling the tension in him reside momentarily. "His wife is with child, so I'm sure you'll understand if he wishes to go to bed alone this evening."

The attention of the women subside, much to Morris's relief, and the two are left alone to scale the staircase to their hired room, the sound of the saloon's piano and chatter quietening behind them.

"You did not have to lie for me," Morris says once they're inside the room, the key turned in the lock as to not be disturbed by any more potential lady callers. "But I appreciate it, nonetheless."

Warm nods as he leans against the door, a full bottle of scotch in his hand as he watches Morris sit on one of the small, rickety beds, the wooden frame creaking beneath his weight.

Combing a hand through his hair, Morris exhales before looking up at Warm, who smiles at him, dark eyes warm, even in the dim light of the room. Morris can't help the own smile that plays on his face, brow furrowed slightly, "What is it?"

"I'm just curious," Warm says, pushing himself up from his slouched position, making his way across the room. "You've never spoken about your marital life, whether you have a wife or a woman in waiting."

Morris shifts, shoulders rising a little as he presses his palms to the mattress, straightening up as Warm approaches him. He chuckles, nervous, "Well, there's not much to discuss. I've told you about most things... my father, my mother and sisters. There's no other people in my life of importance, really."

Taking a seat on the bed besides him, Warm nods, placing the bottle of scotch on the wooden table besides the bed. His knee bumps against Morris's as he settles down, and after a small moment, he speaks, "Perhaps men like us aren't made for marriage and children. We've got too much ambition."

Morris's shoulders relax a little, but his fingers begin to tingle, head turning to look at Warm's face, taking in his profile in the warm light, taking in the slope of his nose and curve of his lips, bathed in candlelight. Morris's breath hitches when Warm turns to him, suddenly closer, dark eyes meeting his.

"They say there's no room for sentimentality in business," Warm exhales, his breath close enough to hit Morris's skin, the hairs on his forearms prickling at the touch. Warm's head tilts slightly, eyes almost sad as he speaks. "But I think that's an awfully bleak way to think about it. Going through life without friends or love, driven only by greed."

Smiling, Warm claps a hand on Morris's shoulder, "I'm thankful to have you in my life, Morris."

Morris swallows, fingertips burning now, his stomach tying in knots. His hand trembles somewhat as he extends it, presses it to Warm's knee, squeezing gently. He smiles, eyes soft as they flicker across Warm's inviting features, "I'm thankful to have you in mine as well, Warm."

A gentle silence falls between the two men, nothing but the sound of their breathing filling the room, like it would when the two were pretending to be asleep, back to back on the desert soil, wondering what the other was dreaming of.

Warm finds himself thinking too much now, scared of being too bold, and moves to pull his hand away, but Morris's fingers stop him, wrapping around his wrist, holding it between the two of them. Blinking, Warm's lips part, searching Morris's face for the answer to an unasked question, but it's soon revealed as Morris brings his hand towards him, his bearded cheek brushing against Warm's open palm, settling there to cup his face. 

Morris's eyelashes shut, dark against his skin, and Warm's breath catches in his throat at the sight of him, vulnerable and inviting, like he had been when he'd told him of his father, all those months ago.

Warm's thumb strokes across Morris's cheek as he shifts on the bed, Morris's own hands moving from his knee to press against his biceps, the two of them holding onto each other in the dark, foreheads meeting, wordless, close enough for their noses to brush.

Neither of them are quite sure who initiates the touch of lips, but it's so brief at first that they wonder if it'd happened at all. It's only when Warm's lips part, and Morris can taste the light taste of scotch on his tongue, do they quite grip what's happening between them, bodies moving together, the mattress below them shifting below their weights.

Warm's knees find themselves either side of Morris's hips, Morris's back flat against the rough sheets, their equally calloused fingers mapping over the fabric of clothing that suddenly feels far too heavy. 

Warm kisses him in such a fervent way that Morris has to pull back, catching his breath as he works on the buttons of Warm's shirt, one hand sliding under his suspenders, slipping them over the heated skin of his shoulders. 

Morris's mouth is hot, wet against his collar bone, and a soft moan leaves the back of Warm's throat, fingers tugging at the waist of Morris's britches, hips rolling down to meet his.

Their knuckles bump together as clothing is discarded to the crooked floorboards of the old motel, and soon enough, Warm has a hand curled around their arousal, both of them hard and wanting, their moans lost in the heat of each other's mouths.

Moments turn to minutes, and minutes turn to an indecipherable period of time, the two of them lost in each other, warm skin against skin.

Morris's fingernails leave crescent shape moons in the skin of Warm's back, stuttering when he finally releases between them, Warm's name present on his tongue. It's shortly thereafter when Warm follows him, rutting against the toned expanse of Morris's hips, teeth grazing the man's shoulder as he comes, hot and hard, stars bursting behind his eyelids.

Morris's hand settles on the back of Warm's neck, fingers pressed to sweat-damp dark hair, a comforting gesture as Warm's bones loosen above him, seeds sticky but not uncomfortable on their skin.

Warm's lips meet Morris's again, thumb pressed to his cheek, stroking across beard and sweat and the salt of the tear that had rolled down his face, the happiness inside him having been far too much to contain. Silly, Morris supposes, but Warm had brought such an incomprehensible feeling out of him that he hadn't quite known what to do with it.

The sound of the muffled saloon piano in the air, and the heat of their bodies, hazy under the scratchy sheets, sends them both into a warm sleep, the deepest they'd had in God know's how long.

\- - - 

Onward bound.

They gather themselves, washing and dressing their rested bones, Morris neatly making the bed they'd shared. They greet each other good morning, warm smiles on their lips, and make their way out of the motel, thanking the hardened owner who throws them an odd look when Warm leaves a tip.

It's when they're out on the plains again, letting their horses take a break, sharing the bread and meat in their leather pouches, that they speak about what had occurred between them, Morris bringing attention to it almost immediately, their knees brushing as they sit side by side on a picket fence, the warm breeze against their skin.

"I don't expect anything," Morris says, voice soft, vulnerable as he looks to the grass beneath their swinging feet. "From you or the future. If you'd like last night to be in the past, then I'd understand. Just know that I wouldn't be opposed to revisiting it... to share something like that with you again."

Warm's brow furrows at the man's apprehension, confused as to why Morris would think that he could be as cruel as to just never want to revisit that again. That he would just do something like that with him and never speak of it after. Reaching a hand out, Warm's fingers settle at the nape of Morris's neck, drawing his eye towards him, lips curling into a gentle smile, reassuring, "Morris... of course I'd like to. I wouldn't-- I couldn't just forget about something like that."

Morris's chest blooms at his business partner's words, his own hand reaching out as he leans into him, twining their fingers together. He smiles, bridging the gap between them, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of Warm's mouth before speaking, foreheads pressed together, "I'm very thankful to have you in my life, Hermann."

Warm smiles, leaning in to kiss Morris again, but not before speaking, "I'm very thankful to have you in mine as well, John."


End file.
